by Robert Day
The drunken youth began to struggle again at this, so Valdieron merely let go of his mouth and grabbed his head instead and slammed it against the wall of the house. It hit with a dull thud, not hard enough that it wouldn't have hurt a sober man very much, but in his present state, the youth slumped unconscious onto the ground with a moan.
Tucking the parchment into his own shirt, Valdieron turned and ran back the way he had come, sticking to the shadows of the buildings. He hoped none of the group of drunken youths had seen him, and there was no pursuit by them, but as he walked, he felt the presence of somebody watching and following him. He did not know the city well, and knew if he tried to shake their pursuit, he might get lost, so he decided to stick with the main streets.
A shuffling from above alerted him to a presence and he spun with his sword coming out of his sheath in a flash. A figure was rising slowly from a crouch, having obviously jumped from the roof of the building above, but he was unarmed and seemed dazed himself, and Valdieron wondered what to do. Was the person a thief himself? He carried no visible weapon but wore a dark cloak with a deep hood that hid his face. Valdieron, whose own dark cloak concealing his features, wondered what the figure was looking at as he stood there watching. He knew a moment later when something hard pressed against the back of his neck, and with a little pressure, he knew it was a blade of some sort.
“Hand over the invitation, and you will live. Do it not, and you will never see another sunrise.”
The figure's voice was alien to many of the others Valdieron had heard over the past days, for it was undoubtedly Elvin. This stunned Valdieron, for he had not expected such an ambush, let alone from an Elf or Elves, though the figure who stood before him was not as tall or lithe as an Elf, probably a Dak'marian.
“Ko, natara hal.”
Although his Elvin was not good, Valdieron hoped his polite refusal was enough to throw his Elvin opponent off guard as he dived forward and to the side. He rolled awkwardly in his heavy cloak, but was able to free his sword arm to raise it as he rose facing his two ambushers. Obviously the Elf had been surprised enough to miss the chance to kill Valdieron, but he waded in fast now, his slender Al'katar slashing at Valdieron in a dazzlingly fast move he was barely able to parry. This was followed by a sweeping kick, which Valdieron almost failed to avoid because he wasn't prepared for the second attack, but somehow he rolled away and gave ground and was able to come back around to face the Elf, who was stalking him like Kaz used to stalk a field mouse.
Not that Valdieron was unused to fighting such a fast opponent, it was just that the Elf was fighting much the same as Llewellyn used to when the two sparred in the weeks before the tournament in Thorhus. Sudden images of his dead Bard friend assaulted Valdieron as the Elf pressed him harder and faster. The style was unmistakably similar, and Valdieron was glad he had Llewellyn's lessons and his tomes for guidance, else the skilled Elf would have defeated him very quickly. As it was, he was able to use his own adapted style to counter the Elf's moves and even go on the offensive, which seemed to surprise the Elf as he redoubled his efforts.
It wasn't long before Valdieron realized this Elf was no common thief. The way he fought was far superior to anything Valdieron had seen, even from the likes of Hagar and Llewellyn himself, though he had never faced his bard friend in a combat to the death. He realized he could hold out the faster Elf for only so long before he made a critical mistake. He fought with a determination and skill he didn't know he had, but even so the Elf was able to match him thrust for thrust and parry for parry. As yet, the second man had not entered the combat, but Valdieron knew if it looked like he was getting the better of the Elf, the other man would undoubtedly join the melee.
His only hope lay in magic or something else, and he had only a tenuous grasp on what little magic he knew, and nothing to really help in combat. Slowly he worked out a plan as the rhythm of the combat flowed to a greater speed, and he just waited his chance to use it.
It came after a long series of exchanged thrusts and parries, starting low and finishing with the two pressed together in a stalemate, blades locked together as they strained to push each other away. Valdieron was glad for the exchange, as he suddenly willed his magical sword to flame. His own eyes, not as sensitive to the change from darkness to light, blurred as his sword flashed, but the Elf wasn't so lucky. With a cry, Valdieron pushed the suddenly blinded Elf away. The Elf rolled away and kept rolling, obviously trying to put as much distance between he and Valdieron as possible, while his sword slashed around him in case Valdieron was pursuing him for the kill.
But Valdieron had another part of his plan to complete. At the sight of the Elf being blinded by Valdieron's sword, the second attacker charged Valdieron, who instead of turning to face him, spun and with his left hand, stripped his dagger from the sheath at his waist and flicked it at the lantern which hung on a high pole fifteen feet away. With a crashing of glass, the dagger shattered the cover of the lantern, which was enough to extinguish the flickering light. Overhead, the twin moons in opposite positions in the dark sky were both waning, and as such, not strong enough to provide illumination by which a human could see. As Valdieron had hoped and guessed, the second attacker faltered in the dark, and stopped warily, his sword coming up before him for protection also.
Valdieron did not bother with him, for although he would probably grow accustomed to the faded light in a few minutes, the Elf was already recovering and walking towards him slowly.
If the Elf was surprised Valdieron could still see, he did not show it as he resumed the melee, showing no indication of suffering from the effects of the temporary blindness. The steely clanging of their slender blades echoed through the streets, but obviously did not warrant the attention of those living nearby, which surprised Valdieron also, for he would have assumed in a town of such a war like people, although street fights would be uncommon due to the lack of theft and street crime, surely somebody would be curious enough to intervene.
And it was unfortunate for him that nobody did come to intervene, because he was slowly being worn down by the superior Elf. He became desperate enough to use some of the newest moves he had recently learned from the Wind Dancer discipline, but the Elf seemed to read his every move and meet him in either a parry or a counter attack. His right thigh was stinging from a long cut, while his arms were growing wearier by the minute. He even tried to work himself and his weapon into a position to try and blind the Elf again, but the Elf was not going to be duped again, and foiled his every attempt by either retreating or keeping the blades low and away from eye level, so that if Valdieron did magically inflame his weapon, the effect would not be so direct and blinding.
He knew he had no chance after the Elf's keen blade sliced across his forearm, drawing a deep cut that left his hand numb and blood running down onto his hand. He was able to change to his left hand, but even though he was good with his left, he was nowhere near proficient, and as such, the Elf soon had his weapon flying free with a simple disarm. Valdieron heard his weapon clatter to the cobbled street, but only watched his Elvin opponent step forward to press his weapon to his throat. He considered attacking again, but knew that without a weapon and with one arm all but useless, he was no match for the armed Elf.
He expected the killing blow to come, but instead the Elf stood regarding him, his fiery red eyes trying to bore beneath his cowl. With a flick, at which Valdieron flinched, the Elf threw back Valdieron's hood, revealing his face. There was a flicker of surprise in the Elf's eyes, as he saw before him a young Dak'marian by all appearances.
“Who are you who looks like a Dak'marian, but sees in the darkness as an Elf, and who fights with a magical sword with the skill of a Bladesinger?”
“Nobody of consequence,” replied Valdieron, not wanting to give the Elf the dignity of knowing who he was for the simple pleasure of it, before he killed him.
The Elf pressed his sword a little harder against Valdieron's throat, but Valdieron did not draw away f
rom the pressure, letting the tip cut into him as he matched the Elf's intense stare.
“I must know. As an Elf, I must know who of our kind taught you the ways of the Bladesong. It is an action punishable by death.”
Valdieron began to laugh at this. “Then it will do no harm in my telling you, for he who did is already dead.”
At this answer, the Elf's sword bit deeper into Valdieron's neck, enough that this time Valdieron winced at the pain. “Then you killed him for his knowledge?”
Valdieron spat at the accusation. “I did no such thing. Llewellyn taught me the ways of the Wind Dancer, but his death was not of my doing. He taught me freely, and for reasons of his own, which died with him.”
“Llewellyn!”
“Llewellyn?” This from the second attacker who was still standing off to the side in the dark, though by now he should have been able to at least pick out the two enough to see it was his Elf companion who had come out the victor. “Valdieron? It cannot be!”
Valdieron turned his head enough to take in the second figure. The Elf, sensing his companion knew this stranger, did not stop him, though his sword remained pressed against Valdieron's throat. As the figure threw back his head, the face Valdieron saw was one he thought he might never see again.
“Andrak?”
The young Prince laughed as he recognized the voice now. “Val. By the gods, this is a strange meeting. Janantar, there is no need for that.”
“So it would seem,” agreed the Elf, slowly withdrawing his sword, though the look he kept on Valdieron was one of mistrust as he carefully wiped the blood from the blade and sheathed it. He also wiped at a damp line of blood that ran down his thigh from a wound Valdieron had inflicted.
“Can somebody give me some light here?” pleaded Andrak.
Valdieron moved to re-gather his sword. This sudden turn of events had left him stunned, for he had not expected to meet anybody he knew here in Sha'kar, let alone Andrak, but when he thought about it, obviously the Prince was looking for Kitara, as Valdieron was.
“Here.” Once again willing his sword to flame, Valdieron lit the area enough for Andrak to see. Walking over to the Prince, Valdieron clasped him by the shoulder in greeting.
“By the voids, what are you doing here in Sha'kar, Val?”
“The same as you, no doubt, but I don't think we should stay around here much longer to discuss it. Come, I have a room at an inn nearby, we can talk there in safety.”
Suddenly reminded of where they stood, and what had just taken place, Andrak nodded and fell in beside Valdieron, while Janantar the silent Elf followed behind.
“I would offer you food, but I can't even afford that,” laughed Valdieron as he closed the door behind them and moved to sit on the bed. He sat with a heavy sigh and began to remove his cloak, careful where it had stuck to his new wounds as the blood had dried.
“That's all right. I have some money. I was forced to sell one of my father's rings, but it got us enough money to survive for a time, even though the merchant did cheat me badly.”
“I know how you feel. It is never like this in any of the stories you read, is it? Money never seems to be a problem for any of the heroes I ever read about.”
“No, that is for sure. I will be back in a moment with some food and drink.”
Valdieron nodded as the Prince slipped from the room, while at the far end of the room, the Elf was standing at the window, looking out over the dark city.
The wounds he had were not bad, though the one on his forearm was fairly deep, and would need a lot of rest. He moved to the bathroom and wet a cloth before returning to the main bedroom and stripping off his shirt to clean all of his wounds.
“I am sorry I had to wound you, Valdieron.”
The words from the silent Elf surprised Valdieron, and he looked up to see the Elf regarding him again, as if he was trying to figure out who he really was.
“That's all right,” replied Valdieron with a smile. “I didn't really leave you much of a choice, did I?”
“No, you didn't,” laughed Janantar, and for a moment Valdieron was struck with the resemblance between this Elf and Llewellyn, but he passed it off as a natural trait. “And I have to admit that for a round-ear you fight very well.”
“Not well enough, obviously,” mused Valdieron softly, for it hinted closely at the self doubts he had been feeling for some time now.
“Now don't be too chagrined, Valdieron. Not too many people could have matched me as you did tonight. I know of only one, the Elf king Solantholas, and maybe his son, Kalandar.”
“Then I am in grand company at least,” smiled Valdieron, liking the noble Elf already.
“Yes you are, and I would be honored to hear your tale. There is about you a sense of fate, even on one so young, and I feel there was a reason we were joined tonight.”
“It is a long story, and I will wait until Andrak returns and we have eaten.”
The Prince did not take long, and returned with drinks and enough food for the three. They ate slowly, talking softly and telling their stories, and while Valdieron was stunned at what had happened to the Prince since they had parted company in Thorhus, Andrak was incredulous when told of all that had happened to Valdieron in the same time.
“And your friend, Javin, he is held in this arena, and will fight in the big event in two days?”
Valdieron nodded. “Yes. You obviously knew of the event, and it is common knowledge on the street some grand prize is on offer, so you came to the same conclusion as we did? Surely your sister is the prize for this combat called Gladius.”
Andrak nodded glumly at this. “Yes. We have seen and heard enough to have come to that likely conclusion. Part of me hopes it is not the case, but I know at least if she is held there, I can do something about it. If she is elsewhere, then I would not know how to find her.”
“So what are we going to do, now? We have a copy of an invitation, but that will not get us all into the stadium.”
Andrak shook his head, indicating he had no answer, while Janantar said nothing.
After a long silence, Valdieron could think of little that might help them. “How much gold did you say you had, Andrak?”
“About forty gold, plus some silver. Why?”
“Maybe we can find somebody who could copy the invitation for us?”
Andrak was dubious, for he knew Sha'kar did not have as shady an underworld as there was in Thorhus, and any attempt at doing such might lead to more problems with the law if the person they approached turned them over to the city guard.
“I don't know if we would have enough money, still. Such an act would be very costly, I think, just to compensate for the chance of being found out.”
“Well, we can find out how much it will cost and if we have to, I will sell Javin's horse. We had planned to if we were stuck for cash, and I can see no other chance. For us to have any chance of finding Kitara and rescuing her, we need to all be inside that stadium. The guard is pretty tight with only two days to go, plus I don't know what magical wards this Zhak Lomar has set up in the grounds, so it is probably better we do it this way, I think.”
Andrak nodded agreement. “Yes, I think so, too. Now all we have to do is find somebody who will copy the invitation for us.”
“Leave that to me, Andrak. I will find somebody who might help us.” Janantar rose and strode to the door before Andrak could respond, though by the look on the grim Elf's face, there was nothing either could do to stop him.
“Just be careful, Janantar. We can't afford to have to rescue you from the city dungeon, that is if they don't just hang you first.”
At this, Janantar turned and smiled. “Never seen a rope yet that can hold an Elf's neck.” Laughing at his own joke that neither Andrak or Valdieron found particularly amusing, the Elf was gone.
“He seems like a handy person to have around,” mused Valdieron, eyes still on the door. He was thinking of another Elf as he spoke, and could not help but feel a moment's sadn
ess as the vision of Llewellyn came to him.
“He is invaluable. Many times he has saved my life, and he is a good tracker and hunter. It is unfortunate many view the Elves as outcasts, for they are truly a spectacular people with much history and honor.”
“I can’t believe you have seen the Elf city!”
“It was amazing!” breathed Andrak with a smile as he remembered the soaring glamour of the Sylvan city. “I had never thought something so beautiful could exist, but Lloreander is everything I have ever heard and read about, and then some. Words cannot describe it, because there is more to it than just its aesthetic beauty.”
Valdieron's mind wandered as he listened to the Prince talk about the Elvin city, and he wondered if he would ever see the fair city of Lloreander. He knew a part of him was Elvin, and would like to one day know who his grandmother had been, but that seemed more like a dream now than a reality with what still faced them here in Sha'kar.
“If the gods are kind, then one day I will see it with my own eyes,” he whispered, rolling back onto the bed and closing his eyes.
“I am sure you will see it one day, Valdieron, and you will be similarly impressed.”
But Valdieron did not answer. He was already lost in thought, and he needed to sleep, not just for the rest but for the answers he needed which were only available in Kel'Valor. He heard Andrak rise and move to Javin’s bed and drop onto it, though Valdieron knew the Prince would not sleep soon. He had seen the anguish in the young Prince's face, and knew he worried constantly for his sister.
Valdieron had the same worries, and more, but he couldn't afford to wallow in his self doubts and reservations, else there would be no hope for Kitara. He had made his own vow, and nothing would stop him from giving his everything to see it fulfilled.
